This popped into my head and wouldn't leave me alone. I suppose if enough people show interest in it, I could turn it into a multi-chapter story. For now, it's a one-shot.
Officer Chickie Brown never expected to leave the Los Angeles Police Department. She always figured that she would transfer out of Patrol and into a S.W.A.T. team before leaving the one of the largest police forces in the country. Her son had friends in Los Angeles, and she never wanted to force him to start over somewhere new – he already had a tough enough time living without a father figure in the house. Chickie herself even had friends she wouldn't think of leaving, John, Dewey, and even that rookie Ben. They were her circle, her comfort zone.
However, not long after she single-handedly apprehended The Canyon Rapist that fateful night, she received a rather surprising message.
"Brown! Someone called for you, said he was from the FBI!" The desk Sergeant called out to her as she entered the Division to finish up her paperwork before the end of her watch. He held up a yellow slip of paper and she grabbed it as she walked by.
The blonde Police Officer III expected to simply glance over the note and never give it a second thought, however something in the note caused her to stop dead in her tracks. "Sarge!" She called, making her way back towards the front desk. "Does this say what I think it says?"
The large muscled man took the note back and glanced over it, handing it back almost immediately. "Yup, exactly what I heard I wrote down. He said he was from the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, wanted to talk to you about a job opening."
As soon as she got home that night, Chickie called that FBI Agent back. It turned out that he had looked up her records after learning about her apprehension of The Canyon Rapist. He said she had good instincts, her records showed exemplary work and initiative, he wanted to know if she wanted to join his unit.
She requested a meeting with the Agent, not wanting to accept an offer before seeing exactly who was offering it. She had heard about the Behavioral Analysis Unit, they were elite, it was hard for even a fifteen year FBI veteran to gain a spot within their ranks – what would they want with a measly little Patrol cop from Los Angeles?
After meeting up with Agent who left her the message, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner – who turned out to be the Unit Chief of the team she was offered the job in. The stoic, professionally suited, dark-haired man said that she would be sent through certain FBI Academy courses to bring her up to speed on federal procedures and behavioral analysis – but otherwise she could transfer into his unit as a full-blown Agent almost immediately. He even said that he was formerly a member of the S.W.A.T. team and that he could pull a few strings and see if they would allow her to train with them for a few sessions.
She was in awe. He gave her his card, said to call within a week if she wanted the job. She called the next day.
